(no subject)
that which has no end
tears are falling in heaven
dripping through the cracks
left in the sky and, like
silverleaf accruing water,
shimmering across my mind.
yesterday was spent in weeping,
weeping that which was both
good and bad, the good gathering
bathing my feet in silver,
not coming from me, but into me:
out of my eyes, possessed by the Spirit,
finally crying aright.
today was spent in looking,
with eyes full opened wide.
silenced by the light
that a blind man saw
child on his back,
being lead by a dog;
black alsatian trotting,
man smiling,
child sleeping:
this is beauty.
and i am wreathed by the silver
tears of the Spirit finding cracks
in my head, so strong so proud,
finally allowing that which it
was powerless to prevent.
and the silver catches fire
and the fire catches me about my ankles.
and it is impossible to run.
fire catches silver,
silence catches fire,
bursting into songs
that never fade
because the have no beginning
and have no end.
just that endless Word,
silver and bleeding
embossed across the clear blue sky,
and in the night bright shining
clouds of stars, a new lexicon
for writing, and believing.
i am no prophet
it is no small matter that
the masks are falling like
star-papered walls
collapsing into crimson
wreathed in silver
wreathed in fire.